


That She May Find Her True Love First

by Professor_Saber



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/F, First Dates, Regeneration, Romance, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-11-14 06:24:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18047234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Professor_Saber/pseuds/Professor_Saber
Summary: After a terrible fight, Clara parted ways with the Doctor, after having been married to the Twelfth, Thirteenth, and Fourteenth.  Now regenerated, the Fifteenth Doctor hopes that Clara will, at the very least, take her out on one date.A sequel/prequel/whatever to my first work,Their Song Is Almost Over.





	That She May Find Her True Love First

**Author's Note:**

> Just FYI, this might not make sense if you haven't read [Their Song Is Almost Over](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11004405), but in brief: Clara is still chronolocked, but Twelve remembered her well before his regeneration. "Song" is a brief sweep of the rest of their lives; this bit takes place in the middle.

“ _Fourteen got on her nerves so much that they separated for a few centuries. That was the way it ended up being, sometimes; sometimes separate and going solo, but always married, always together, even when apart.”_

* * *

It had been centuries since Clara Oswald had last seen the Doctor. She wasn’t sure how long, exactly. But even with all the time that had passed, it still hurt. What he had done, had said to her, still hurt. He was blunt, blunter than even Eyebrows, and couldn’t seem to do anything right when it came to their relationship. So she had left.

Despite it all, she missed him.

She was navigating the Diner away from the planet Helias after saving the day when a message came on her psychic paper. She pulled it out of her pocket and looked around the console room. Her companions, Shona and George, had just left to go to sleep after an exhausting adventure. The paper was marked “From the Doctor.”

Grateful for the privacy, Clara opened the psychic paper. The handwriting on it was different, mellifluous and flowing.

> _My dearest Clara,_
> 
> _As you probably can tell from the new handwriting, I’ve gone and regenerated again. Big sacrifice on Forcas III, long story. I’d very much like to tell it to you in person._
> 
> _It’s easy, now, for me to see what kind of an arse the last me was. I am so sorry for the way_ ~~_he_~~ _I treated you back then. I could make a million excuses, but I don’t want to, and I shan’t._
> 
> _I really, really miss you. One second without you is hell, and I’ve gone through two hundred years. I still love you, my Clara, and I always will. I don’t know what you’ve been up to, but I’m hoping you’ll give this new me a try._
> 
> _I think you’ll like this new me. I’m finally ginger! A bit younger looking, too. I know, I_ _ know _ _you don’t care about that, but I’m hoping you’ll see it as a selling point? I’m sending a picture on the back of the psychic paper. My face is really wide now, too! We can use the same mirrors!_
> 
> _Oh, I miss you so. I’ve longed to hear your sweet voice, to feel your body next to mine, for so long I can barely live with myself. My dearest love, I beg of you, please see me again. I’m sending coordinates. Just dinner. Please give me that chance._
> 
> _Yours now and forever,_
> 
> _The Doctor_

A little annoyed at the mirrors remark, Clara turned the paper over. On the other side was the image of a very tall and slender woman, with big, beautiful green eyes and long, curly red hair. She was wearing a purple, double-breasted suit and a long, lilac scarf.

Clara immediately sent her response. 

> _My sweetest Doctor,_
> 
> _I’m not going to lie: the last you really was an arse. But don’t for one_ _ second _ _think I ever stopped loving you. We may have fought and shouted and even separated, but I loved him. It was painful, how dense that last you was. Even Scottish insect you was much better at emotions. But I loved him. I love_ _ you _ _. And I miss you, every second of every day._
> 
> _I can’t believe it’s been two hundred years. Was that fight really so serious that we’d part for that long? We are both still so stupid, aren’t we? Haven’t learned that lesson, even now, that we need to sit down and talk sometimes._
> 
> _So, my beautiful space_ ~~_husband_~~ _wife, I graciously accept your dinner invitation, and hope for something a little more. After all, I’ve missed the sweetness of your lips, my love, and these new ones of yours look wonderful._
> 
> _I will see you for dinner soon. It’d better be at_ _ least _ _the fourth-most romantic restaurant in all of time and space, my daft old girl._
> 
> _With eternal love,_
> 
> _Clara_

* * *

Clara adjusted the hem of her dress for the umpteenth time. It was a simple red number, not as ornate as the one she wore long ago on the Orient Express.

She walked into the lobby of the restaurant. The Doctor had chosen very well. It was well decorated in a Louis XV style, with intimate booths instead of open tables. Above the dance floor, the heart of the Orion Nebula glistened in the night.

Clara turned at the sound of approaching heels. The Doctor was walking towards her, wearing a green dress and wobbling uncertainly on said heels. Clara tried to suppress a laugh.

“You know,” she said, “you really don’t have to wear heels here. Or ever.”

“It’s great to see you, too,” the Doctor said, leaning down and kissing Clara briefly. Their eyes lingered for a long moment, and the Doctor wrapped her arms around her and pulled her close.

“I’ve missed you so much,” she said.

“I’ve missed you,” Clara said. “Though I’m a little angry that you’re still taller than me.”

The Doctor smirked. “I’m sure you are.” She held her arm out. “Would you like to dance?”

“I’d love to,” Clara said.

The Doctor led Clara out towards the dance floor—or rather, she tried to. After tripping over her heels three times, nearly pulling Clara to the floor each time, she said, “Maybe we should have dinner first.”

“Might be a good idea,” Clara said, laughing.

Soon, Clara and the Doctor had taken a seat in one of the booths.

“I’d think you’d need reservations at a place like this,” Clara said.

“I have them,” the Doctor said, brushing a lock of her hair behind her ear. “I think this me is going to be very prepared.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Clara said.

The Doctor slid around the table, next to Clara. “You know what’s great about this place?”

“Privacy?” Clara asked, her eyes shining.

The Doctor flipped a small switch in the center of the table. The opening of the booth shimmered and became semi-opaque.

“Privacy,” the Doctor said, planting a kiss on Clara’s lips, eliciting a soft moan from her wife.

“I’ve missed you so much,” the Doctor said, holding Clara’s face in her hands.

“I’ve missed you,” Clara said. “God, I want you so bad.”

“You don’t even know me,” the Doctor said.

“I know you,” Clara said. “You’re the same person. You always are.”

“But the last me,” the Doctor began.

Clara put a finger on her lips. “You were just so _clueless_ back then. It drove me, it drove _us_ crazy. And I’ll admit, there were times I worried we were over. But I realized you were still the same. And that I could never give you up.”

The Doctor pressed her forehead to Clara’s. “I’ve missed you, Clara Oswald.”

“I’ve missed you,” Clara said. “Daft old girl.”

After another kiss, Clara said, “I still want dinner.”

The Doctor flipped the switch again, and tapped the table three times. Holographic menus appeared over the table.

“I think you’ll like their selection,” the Doctor said. She smiled. “And these people owe me. Order the most expensive things, if you like.”

“I’ll want the most expensive _wine_ ,” Clara said, looking at the menu.

“Taken care of,” the Doctor said.

When the waiter came, Clara indeed ordered the most expensive items on the menu. She didn’t eat much; being chronolocked reduced her appetite to nearly zero. But she could still enjoy food, and fully planned to this evening.

* * *

They spent most of the dinner just talking. About the adventures they had gotten into when they were apart, about the companions they had traveled with. Clara, for instance, had left hers on Earth in 2029 for the evening.

“‘But the Fifteenth,’” the Doctor said, swirling her wine glass, “‘the Fifteenth shall be born alone, in order that she may find her true love first.’”

“Another rubbish prophecy?” Clara asked, laughing.

“Those seem to follow me around, yeah,” the Doctor said, cringing.

“So you’d know you’d be a girl this time?” Clara asked.

The Doctor shook her head. “The prophecy was in Old Chinese. No gendered pronouns.”

“How was a prophecy about you written in Old Chinese?” Clara asked.

“Richard wanted to see his ancestors,” the Doctor said, “so we ended up in Shang Dynasty China.”

“You didn’t tell me Richard was Chinese.”

“He’s not,” the Doctor said. She took a swig of her drink. “But every human being alive is descended from a single, common ancestor. As of Richard’s time, that’s a rice farmer on the Yangtze named Song.”

“And you just knew that?” Clara asked, skeptical.

The Doctor shook her head. “No, the TARDIS figured that out.”

“So I’m descended from this Song person too?” Clara asked. “Like Adam and Eve?”

The last Doctor would have laughed at her for even mentioning Adam and Eve. This Doctor patiently said, “In principle, I suppose. But there were lots of other people in the world during Song’s time, of course, but some of them don’t have any descendants, or are ancestors of only part of the human population.

“But that’s the amazing thing,” she continued. “No matter what skin color you have, what language you speak, every human being is related to every other—through a _single_ person, who didn’t even live that long ago. And if you go back further in time, Clara, you’ll find that there was a time where everyone alive is either the ancestor of every human being now alive, or none of them.

“That means, for all the bigotry and petty hatreds your species have, you are all fundamentally part of the same family. You are all descended from the same people, people who built the pyramids, people who wrote the first literature, the people who painted the caves. Kings and slaves, you are all _connected_ to each other.”

Clara gazed at her wife. “That’s amazing. I’ve missed having you tell me about things like that.”

The Doctor smiled and blushed. “Well, I’ve missed telling you about them.”

Clara leaned across the table and kissed her, deeply and tenderly. After a while, she said, “I don’t remember what we were even talking about.”

“The prophecy,” the Doctor said, sitting back. “Now _that_ was really interesting. You see, China was first ruled by the Xia dynasty. Only they weren’t so much a dynasty as a group of friends. Immortal friends. Well, not immortal, but at any rate they had advanced technology…”

Clara sat back, content to listen as her beloved wife regaled her with tales of ancient aliens trapped on Earth, ruling a small country as gods and kings, until _she_ came along and did her thing.

“I wish I was there with you,” Clara said.

The Doctor smiled shyly. “I wish you were there, too.”

* * *

They danced after that, the Doctor leaving her high heels on the table and dancing in her bare feet. She was still taller than Clara.

“It’s not fair,” Clara said. “I’m wearing six inch heels.”

“I’m six feet tall,” the Doctor said. “Maybe you should get twelve inch heels.”

“Dear god, I don’t think they’d even make those.”

“You should see Martos VII,” the Doctor said, spinning Clara around slowly. “The center of fifty-seventh century fashion. Utterly ridiculous clothing. They make the Time Lords look sensible. I’m sure you could find twelve inch heels there.”

“What do they call those?” Clara asked. “‘Really, _really_ fuck me pumps’?”

“Why Clara,” the Doctor said, pulling her close, “language like that makes me think you have dishonorable intentions towards me.”

“When haven’t I?” Clara asked, smiling smugly.

“Fair cop,” the Doctor said, giving Clara a light kiss. “But it took you long enough to tell me that.”

“You mean going off and dying?” Clara asked. The Doctor winced. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” the Doctor said, spinning her wife around again. “I just don’t like thinking about it. You’re alive, you’re here.”

“Always will be,” Clara said. “Always for you.”

* * *

Hours later, they walked towards the Doctor’s TARDIS, arm in arm.

“Where’d you hide yours?” the Doctor asked.

Clara pointed towards the far wall. “You see that door?”

“Yeah? It’s in there?”

“It’s that door,” Clara said.

“You’ve got the chameleon circuit working?” the Doctor asked. “Clara, that’s terrible!”

Clara laughed. “Come on! And she still prefers being the diner. She just knows when she needs to hide a little better.”

“Oh,” the Doctor said.

“So,” Clara said, smiling coyly and leaning against the door of the Doctor’s TARDIS. “Your place, then?”

The Doctor smiled awkwardly. “I guess that’s where we’re going, yeah.”

Clara smiled and pulled her into a kiss. But the Doctor barely responded. When Clara broke the kiss, the Doctor stared out into the distance.

“What is it?” Clara asked, worried.

“Platform shoes,” the Doctor said. “They wouldn’t be twelve inch heels so much as platform shoes.”

Clara laughed. “Shut up, you,” she said, pulling her close.

* * *

Clara woke later in the Doctor’s TARDIS, in what used to be their bedroom.

“Good morning,” the Doctor said.

Clara smiled and stretched. The Doctor was standing over her, holding a tray in her hand.

“Breakfast in bed?” Clara asked. “Really?”

“Why not?” the Doctor asked as Clara sat up. “Besides, I need to know if this me is a better cook than the last me.”

“ _Anyone_ is a better cook than the last you,” Clara said. “Set it down, and get me a shirt.”

Several minutes later, Clara was dressed in a flimsy nightie, the Doctor on the bed with her and feeding her bites of her breakfast.

Clara moaned. “I’ve missed this.”

“I’ve missed you,” the Doctor said. “I don’t want you to go.”

“Who says I have to go?” Clara asked.

The Doctor blushed and looked away. “Well, I was assuming…”

Clara turned the Doctor’s face towards her with her finger.

“Hey,” she said. “I want to stay with you. I really like this you, and I want to travel with you again.”

“What about your companions?”

Clara shrugged. “I’m sure they can move to your TARDIS. I promised Ashildr a while back that she could borrow mine, so I’m sure she’d be happy to keep watch over it for a while.”

“They’d be okay with that?”

“I’m sure they’ll like you,” Clara said. “I talk about you often enough. Besides, I want to be with you.”

The Doctor smiled. “Then it’s settled. Together at last.”

“How about that?” Clara said. “You found your true love first after all.”

The Doctor kissed her. “That I did.”

END


End file.
